


Somewhere in the forest

by snowrin



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22109794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowrin/pseuds/snowrin
Summary: Madara knows something is off. The boy is a Uchiha, no doubt. Yet he ran. When questioned, he lies.Whether or not the myths are true, he needs answers.
Relationships: Uchiha Madara & Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 20
Kudos: 208





	1. Lost

He spoke with a wide smile that stretched across his face, glee in his very words as he rubbed his hands together. “Our mercenaries have caught the boy you’ve been searching for, he’s locked up tight for now. No worries, he can’t run away again. We need to have a talk about the payment, don’t we?” The vile man chuckled, eyes shining with greed.

Madara restrained himself, suppressing a grimace and waved his hand. “Hand over the boy, we will award you sufficiently.”

“Yes, yes. Come, bring him out.” The mercenary quickly called to his subordinates. The hall was filled with movement as men shuffled about.

The wait was short. The sound of chains clinking together and dragging on the wooden floor echoed within the cavern, slowly growing louder and louder as they neared.

The boy hung limply between the hold of two burly men. Head drooped down, hair wet for some reason, pale face barely visible and marked with grime and injuries. His ragged clothing hung loosely on his frame, obviously too big for him.

Madara jerked the boy’s chin up, inciting a low noise of warning. He was barely conscious, futilely attempting to resist and throw his hand off. Madara tightened his grip. It was him, for sure.

The brat was a Uchiha, no doubt. Why he’d run at the sight of him, though, Madara could not understand.

It was in the forest by the lake as he returned from meeting Hashirama, perturbed and irritated from arguing all day, that he had heard a rustle and reached out to a faint chakra not too far from him. He had cautiously approached, making sure to smother his own tracks. What he saw was a kid, heavily injured and panting. He was too occupied in observing the boy, that when the kid snapped his head up, he didn’t have a chance to stop him.

Though, even if he had been paying attention, it still might not have mattered as Madara had stood still, frozen at the sight of the boy’s eyes.

It was too late as the offending child ran away, fast for someone who seemed to be injured.

He searched left and right for him once he had returned to Uchiha Compound, but he could not find him. He did not exist within the clan. He should’ve known, nobody could miss eyes like those.

Madara faintly recalled some years ago, dozing off as Hashirama rambled on about some story pointing at the worn pieces of paper he had carried out to show him. He had no interest in the fictional story until Hashirama jabbed him in the side and showed him the tomoe amongst rings sketched out in ink, a stark similarity to the Sharingan, but not quite. Hashirama had spoken heatedly about peace and was vehement about a tale that spoke of a prophecy which would make his dreams come true.

Madara stared down at the weak boy, slumped over, chakra flickering feebly. He shook his head and circled his arm around kid’s waist, heaving him up. He was light.

“Sir, the money?” The merchant stopped Madara from leaving, anxious for his pay.

He glanced at the man. “My subordinates outside will give you your pay.”

“Ah, of course! Please do business with us once again, we’ll be at your service!”

Madara took the boy out of the cavern, nodding to his clansmen who proceeded to draw their kunai and swords. He left as cries and wails rang through the mountain like chimes.

Whether or not it was true, he needed answers.


	2. Hand

He spoke with a wide smile that stretched across his face, glee in his very words as he rubbed his hands together. “Our mercenaries have caught the boy you’ve been searching for. He’s locked up tight for now. No worries, he can’t run away again. We need to have a talk about the payment, don’t we?”

The vile man chuckled, eyes shining with greed.

Madara restrained himself, suppressing a sneer and waved his hand. “Hand over the boy, we will award you sufficiently.”

“Yes, yes. Come, bring him out.” The mercenary quickly called his subordinates. The hall was filled with movement as men shuffled about.

The wait was short. The sound of chains clinking together and dragging on the wooden floor echoed within the cavern.

The boy was hanging limp between the hold of two burly men with his head drooped down, his hair was wet and sticking to his cheeks. His ragged clothing hung loosely on his frame, obviously too big for him. The pale face was barely visible and covered with grime and scratches, but Madara could make out a face.

Madara jerked the boy’s chin up, inciting a low noise of warning. He was barely conscious, futilely attempting to resist and throw his hand off with a feeble shake. Madara tightened his grip. It was him, for sure.

The brat was a Uchiha, no doubt. Why he’d run at the sight of him, though, Madara could not understand.

  
  


It was in the forest by the lake as he returned from meeting Hashirama, perturbed and irritated from arguing all day, that he had heard a rustle and reached out to a faint chakra not too far from him. He had cautiously approached, making sure to smother his own tracks. What he saw was a kid, heavily injured and panting. He was too occupied in observing the boy that when the kid snapped his head up, he didn’t have a chance to stop him.

Though even if he had been paying attention, it still might not have mattered as Madara had stood still, frozen at the sight of the boy’s eyes.

It was too late as the offending child ran away, fast for someone who seemed to be injured.

All that remained in Madara’s head was sight of the Mangekyo Sharingan and the swirling tomoe in gray.

He searched left and right for him once he had returned to Uchiha Compound, but he could not find him. He did not exist within the clan. He should’ve known, nobody could miss eyes like those.

Madara faintly recalled some years ago, dozing off as Hashirama rambled on about some story pointing at the worn pieces of paper he had carried out to show him. He had no interest in such fictional stories until Hashirama jabbed him in the side and showed him the tomoe amongst rings sketched out in ink, a stark similarity to the Sharingan, but not quite. Hashirama had spoken heatedly about peace and was vehement about a tale that spoke of a prophecy which would make his dreams come true.

Madara stared down at the weak boy, slumped over, chakra flickering feebly. He shook his head and circled his arm around the kid's waist, heaving him up. He was light.

“Sir, the money?” The merchant stopped Madara from leaving, anxious for his pay.

He glanced at the man. “My subordinates outside will give you your pay.”

“Ah, of course! Please do business with us once again, we’ll be at your service!”

Madara took the boy out of the cavern, nodding to his clansmen who proceeded to draw their kunai and swords. He left as cries and wails rang through the mountain like chimes.

  
  
  
  



	3. Where

Silence smothered the room in suffocating quiet.

Madara simply stared, refusing to budge.

Sasuke stiffly looked off to the side. Hands clutched in the blanket, the only comfort in this foreign world. His knuckles were white and trembling minisculely, but enough for Madara to notice.

The Uchiha medic looked between the two with an insufferable sigh. “He needs to rest and recover from chakra exhaustion.” She placed down the murky medicinal drink, pushing it towards Sasuke.

“In peace.” She added. The firm glance she gave Madara went ignored as the man resolutely stared at the boy, waiting.

She shook her head and moved to leave.

The two figures stayed frozen long after the medic left. 

“What do you want?” Sasuke mumbled, pulling in the blanket closer as the chills began to set in his bones.

He didn’t know how he ended up in this situation. He didn’t remember. The wrongness of it all scared him. He was much smaller and his chakra went down the drain the moment he tried to use a simple jutsu to fend off his chasers

He suppressed a bout of distress at his state, and peeked at the man. A sense of familiarity had stricken along with alarm. Why, he didn’t know, he’d never seen this person before. Sasuke felt frustrated, knowing something wasn’t right yet unable to tell what was supposed to be right or wrong.

“Who are you?” Madara asked.

“I told you. Sasuke Uchiha.”

Madara narrowed his gaze. “Your left eye… How do you have it?”

_ His left eye…? _

Seeing the puzzlement, Madara snatched the  chokuto  placed on the side table, pointing the flat blade at the boy to see for himself.

Sasuke frowned, hand drifting to his eye. Abruptly, pain flared up in his eyes. He cringed, crumpling into the sheets. Pure white exploded in his head as needles speared through his eyes. He clawed at his face, driven mad by the stinging and itching that plagued his sockets. 

A strong force caught his hands, trapping them down as he fiercely tried to throw off the heavy weight pressing him down.

“Hold him down. Get the medic!” There was a fury of thuds.

“What happened?!”

The boy was practically convulsing, jerking and gasping. Madara drew back as the sentry, who had burst in at the scream, hastily moved to hold down Sasuke. Too worn out, he instantly went limp, panting heavily as the searing pain slowly faded away.

Sasuke let out a pained noise.

“Move. What did you do?” The medic pushed her way inside. The sentries were all shooed out once she confirmed Sasuke’s condition.

“Nothing.”

She did not look amused. Madara responded darkly. “He looked at his reflection and started screaming, I did not do anything.”

“His reflection?”

Madara nodded.

Sasuke was slumped in the blankets, hair damp and matted against his forehead. He was still panting, eyes squeezed closed.

“There should be no negative effects, since the sharingan requires direct eye contact.” The medic hummed. “That shouldn’t have hurt him, assuming it works the same way.”

She moved the untouched bowl of medicine and shuffled closer. Seeing Sasuke respond to her movement, she asked. “Are you in pain?”

“A little…” Sasuke winced at his hoarse voice. “My eyes hurt.”

“Can you tell us what happened with your left eye?” She gently asked. 

“I don’t know.” Sasuke spat out in distress. “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

“We don’t know. It looks like the sharingan but it’s not. And Sasuke? Turn off your sharingan, you’ll get chakra exhaustion again.”

“Oh.” He immediately stemmed the flow. 

“Keep resting. Don’t get up.” She pushed down the boy with sternness. Then she motioned to Madara before saying one last thing.

“And drink the medicine before you sleep.”

“...Ok.” Sasuke mumbled grudgingly.

The medic smiled and slid the door open. Madara followed, shutting the door behind him and walked through the courtyard.

They stopped a ways from the room, but not too far in case something happened.

“What is it?” Madara questioned, knowing the medic had something to say.

“He seems to have a problem with his memory. Did he have trouble remembering his name or anything?”

“No, he knew his name.” Madara said, recalling how adamant the kid was. “He knows he’s a Uchiha, but he doesn’t know me.”

The medic frowned. “Could he have been raised outside the compound?”

“Possibly, but unlikely. All Uchiha are closely accounted for.” Madara had checked the record for the families of those with a child roughly of his age and found nothing.

“Taken?”

“From where?”

The medic shrugged. “We won’t get answers by talking here. Show him around once he recovers enough, see if he remembers anything.”

“And how long will that take?”

“At least two weeks.”

Madara could not wait.

* * *

Sasuke could not sleep.

He was exhausted and aching all over. Yet the dull throb of a headache kept him awake and hyper aware. Sasuke laid there, thinking and thinking.

He could not remember.

All he knew was that this was not right. That he shouldn’t be here, and that he shouldn’t be this small.

He turned onto his side, gaze meeting the chokuto sheath placed on the ground, forgotten. He reached for it, only to recoil as if burned. The throbbing in his head became worse and Sasuke braced for another bout of pain.

He curled up under the blanket, feverish and sweat sticking to his clothes. He stayed there crunched up into a ball, nails biting into his palm as he gritted his teeth.

Sasuke did not hear the door opening nor the pad of footsteps and crinkle as someone crouched by his bedside.

There was a cool hand on his forehead, like a relief among flames.

He sighed, relishing the coolness moving through his hair as he slipped into sleep.


End file.
